


Winter Destinations

by DarkeAngelus



Category: X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An approaching blizzard is fixed to hit New York. Strong Guy notes that since Shatterstar is a teleporter, he can take them some where warm. Rictor, however, has some issues with the destination that 'Star has in mind. A private conversation with Banshee reveals the reason. Believe it or not, this is actually a love story, although a rather brutal one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Destinations

Winter Destinations

* * *

_“-all bus routes will be suspended after six o’clock in preparation for the blizzard that’s about to hit the east coast-“_

“Turn the channel for the luva gawd,” Guido moaned, sparing a glance out of the window. It was snowing lightly, the consistency of that fine grainy shit that guaranteed it was going to be a bitch of a storm. The type that turned vehicles into indistinct white lumps the next morning and shovelling a path to the sidewalk felt more like an Arctic expedition the longer you were out in it.

Pip turned the channel but the approaching Nor'Easter was big news and all stations were either covering it or showing those obnoxious tickertape displays along the bottom of the screen.

_“-We interrupt Grey’s Anatomy for this special announcement: WKNH News Central has announced a Blizzard Alert for Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan, and Staten Island. Storm surge is going to be abnormally high so people are to avoid all low lying areas near the Lower Bay area-“_

“Earth weather is so paradoxical,” Longshot remarked, completely unfazed by the declarations of winter doom. “Just witnessing the change of seasons is a feast for the eyes. Ny kasi, sifeoh?”

Shatterstar was sitting on his usual place on the floor next to Rictor’s right leg, working through a can of Pringles. “Codlista,” he agreed in Cadre, switching to English. “Mojoworld city domes were always temperature controlled, always dry. I did not know what rain was until I escaped to the wilds.”

“Or darkness,” Longshot said, nodding.

“Or cold,” they said together and shivered.

At the mere reminder, Monet rose to walk over to the thermostat and Jamie swivelled around in his chair and levelled a finger at her. “Don’t you dare.”

She lifted a lip in a sneer and deliberately cranked the dial up higher. “Might as well get the place warm now. The power will probably go out in a few hours and we’ll have to spend the night all sleeping together.”

Longshot and Shatterstar exchanged an excited, hopeful glance.

“Hey, I saw that,” Rictor said, slapping the back of his partner’s head. _“¡Pus esta!”_

 _“Lo siento! No se enoje,”_ ‘Star said, laughing.

“Hey,” Guido piped up, looking over at them. “Hey, hey, hey-“

“We weren’t saying anything wrong,” Ric said rolling his eyes, knowing of the huge mutant’s disapproval of public displays of affection. Particularly the gay type. “He just said he was sorry and not to get mad-“

“No, s’not what I wuz thinkin’. Hearing you two talk Spanish, it jus’ reminded me; ‘Star’s a ‘porter and you two palled around most of Mexico, right? You must know a beach or three. We’ll go there for a night or couple, til this storm blows through.”

“We’re _definitely_ doing this,” Layla announced.

“Why?” Theresa said, arching one delicate red eyebrow at her. “Because you know stuff?”

“No, because I’m freezing my nips off.” She didn’t even have to look around to see that Jamie was trying to grab a discrete look. “Stop that.”

“It’s a grand idea. I’m losing my natural tan,” Monet said, holding out one dark arm with a derisive sniff. “What do you say, ‘Star?”

"I know the perfect place," the alien said, immediately on board for the venture. He craned his head up at Rictor who was lounging back in the sofa and looking tense, as if he was already one step ahead of his boyfriend and knew where this conversation was going. "Do you remember that private beach a few kilometres down from Manzanillo? The one where we camped-"

"Not there," Ric cut in. "How about Los Corchos? Remember that one? It was less than twenty minutes from Tepic."

"It was crowded and there was an old woman shopkeeper there who kept staring at me and whistling every time I walked past."

"You were wearing a swimming thong. _Everyone_ was staring at you."

"I wore it because _you_ bought it for me," the alien remarked drolly while the others snickered (even Guido). "The beach in Manzanillo was completely deserted. Peaceful. If you picture it, I’ll transport us-"

"I'm not going there," Rictor said firmly, getting to his feet and walking out of the room. "Have M call up some French Rivera beach on her iPhone where the women suntan topless. I bet you'd like that."

"I'd like that, too," Guido said eagerly.

Jamie looked about to add his vote to the jaunt and caught Layla's disapproving scowl. He slumped down in his seat and tried to look interested in the news, which was still calling for winter doom in the over-dramatized way that newscasters counted on for ratings. "Eh, boobs. You've seen one pair, you've seen 'em all. Am I right, guys?"

“Wrong,” said Pip, sucking on the end of his cigar.

"I also must disagree," Longshot said, already looking over Monet's shoulder as she dug out her phone and began scrolling through possible locations. "Breasts come in remarkable shapes and sizes. They're big and small and perky and tanned and pierced and-"

"Man, you're killing me here," Jamie moaned.

'Star watched Rictor leave the room with clear confusion written on his face, but he didn't chase him. For all his skill and notoriety as a warrior badass, he was actually the passive one in the relationship and rarely argued with the Hispanic, even over issues that should have demanded some sort of explanation. Like this one. Sitting nearby, Theresa watched 'Star work through some internal debate in his head and then visibly back off, turning instinctively to the television as if for some sort of spiritual guidance.

With a sigh, Terry followed after Ric instead. She found him seated at the kitchen table staring at a beer he hadn't opened yet, watching the condensation forming on the glass with faraway eyes. When she walked in, he became animated again and popped the cap, taking a long drink.

"Ye mind telling me what that was all about?" she asked, getting a ginger ale from the fridge and sitting across from him.

"Shouldn't you be packing your bikini and sunscreen?'

"Shouldn't ye be apologizing?" she countered.

"For what?"

"From the sounds o' things, 'Star was talking about a really sweet place where the two of ye camped for a while and ye shot him down. I thought ye weren't a closet case anymore."

"It's got nothing to do with that," he said stiffly. "We didn't go there to make out."

"Then what-"

"Shh," Rictor said, getting up from his seat and checking the doorway and corridor for any eavesdroppers. They all seemed grouped around Monet who was talking about someplace named Plage de Tahiti located somewhere on the Baie de Pampelonne. Layla and Longshot were both sounding eager to be 'Star's anchor for the jaunt but the alien had lapsed into a moody silence and wasn't contributing to the conversation. Rictor closed the kitchen door and sat closely beside Theresa. "We didn't go to the beach near Manzanillo to go camping. I chose that spot so 'Star could die."

Expecting just about any sort of weaselling answer but that one, Theresa only looked at him in shock.

"'Star and me, we got really spoiled fighting with X-Force. Foes with super powers and alien weapon tech and other mutants having our back. In Mexico, it was just the two of us and we were cocky fighting gunrunners and whatever else we went up against."

"Ye dinnae talk about Mexico often."

"For good reason. It was hot, dirty, and brutal. At least I had the sense to wear a flak vest and protective gear most of the time, even though most days the temperature was in the triple digits and I was close to developing heatstroke every time we went out. 'Star just wore a denim vest and cargo pants. He was treating it like a vacation. _'They're just humans with guns, Julio,'_ that's what he'd tell me. And he'd be smiling when he said it. Really smiling, too. By then, we were ... y'know, and he was over the moon about it, but it made him careless as hell. We cruised along like that for a couple of months before his luck finally ran out. We got separated in a warehouse and they nailed him with stun grenades. I didn't even know anything was wrong until I heard the chainsaws-"

Theresa swallowed and she looked down into her drink. "Oh god." She wasn't sure she wanted to hear this.

"By the time I managed to get to him, he had used his shockwave power to knock them down. He only does that as an absolute last resort. I picked off the stragglers but, Christ Terry, they cut him to pieces. His hands were a mess from trying to deflect the chainsaws. His body was covered in slashes. He was missing a chunk out of his right leg that had cut through the femoral artery. The worst wound was a gouge that started here," he gestured at the meaty part above his left shoulder, "and it went straight down at least a foot. I could see right into him-"

"Okay, okay," she said unsteadily.

"I puked," Ric admitted. "I couldn't help it. He was spouting blood everywhere and trying to get to his feet. Anyone else would have keeled over or been screaming their head off, but not him, Terry. That was the worst of it. He was so damned quiet. He was just trying to get to me and what else could I do? I held him and tried to get pressure on the wounds, but there was so many of them and I-I only had two fucking hands, I-"

Terry put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ric, it's all right."

"Yeah, now." He stared down at the table and shuddered. "He was _dying_ , Terry. He's got a healing factor, but he isn't Wolverine. His wounds take longer to close and blood loss and shock can kill him. I debated taking him to a hospital but what could they do? Really? Human blood transfusions and plasma are no good for his alien physiology. They would have taken one look at him and sealed him in a body bag."

Ric took another compulsive pull from his beer. "We were already in Manzanillo, so I loaded him up in a truck we had and took him to the most secluded beach I could find. Set up a camp, got a fire going, made it as comfortable for him as I could. He soaked through his sleeping bag. Hell, we had to move locations twice until he just ... ran out of blood. The worst of it was that he simply wouldn't give up. God, I stayed right beside him and it was horrible. His heart was skipping beats and I swear there were times as long as two minutes he wouldn't draw in a breath. When he finally did, it was the worst sound in the world. He was in agony and there was nothing I could give him for the pain. I even thought about-about smothering him just to put him out of his misery. On the second day, I saw he was fading fast. I found a place behind our camp where the palm trees formed kind of a circle. There was a shovel in the truck so I-I got it and started d-digging-" his voice broke and he put hands against his eyes, his shoulders shaking.

Theresa went over to him and hugged him from behind. "’Tis okay, Julio. That would’ve been awful for anyone t’go through. What matters is that ye were there for him. Ye stayed with him. It was wonderful of ye t’do that." She used her power and projected some of that melodic, tranquil lilt to her voice to try and calm him down and it seemed to work. His breathing smoothened out and he grabbed a couple of napkins from the holder in the center of the table and blew his nose.

"When I came back, I said I loved him,” Rictor said in a hoarse voice. "Not that _me gusta_ or _te deseo_ crap we've said when we were swept up in the moment. I sat down and held one of his mutilated hands, just waiting for him to take his last breath and I told him I loved him. _'Te amo. Te quiero con todo mi corazón,'_ I said. He opened his eyes and looked at me and, Terry; I never saw so much emotion in them before. That's when I realized the guy had lived eighteen years of his life and nobody ever told him that once. Not one fucking time; That his life had meaning to someone else. That he was loved. It just about broke my heart. He couldn’t talk, he was too weak for that, but his lips moved and I recognized the pattern. He was telling me that he loved me, too. He passed out after that and I-I waited for the end.”

Rictor finished his drink and spared a glance at the door. It sounded like there was a vote going on about destinations with Guido’s voice drowning out the others with “Boobies!” At any other time it would have been funny but neither person in the kitchen felt much like laughing. “You know my mental history,” Rictor murmured.

“I caught a hint of it when O.N.E. showed up when I went into labour,” she said. “Ye were trying to commit suicide by cop.”

“I almost jumped off a building before joining X-Factor. And there were other times ...” Rictor swallowed and settled his rheumy brown eyes on her bright green ones. “I’m just saying it isn’t anything new for me. Back then, I made the decision that neither of us were going to leave that beach when ‘Star ... when his time, y’know, came.”

“Och god, Ric.” Now, Theresa was close to tears. She remembered how their X-Force group had fragmented after Cable walked out on them in their safe house in North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains. Rictor and ‘Star took off to Mexico and Terry and the others had wandered across the ‘States. Both groups lost touch and everybody eventually split off into other factions. The odds of her, Ric, and ‘Star ending up under the same roof again defied all odds. And, the more she listened to awful stories like this one, the more she realized just how rare it actually was. “Obviously, thankfully, it dinnae come t’that. What happened?”

He gave a bewildered shake of the head. “I’d been fighting shock and exhaustion since it happened. I passed out sometime during the night. When I woke up early the next morning, he was gone.”

“Gone ...?” Terry looked at him with wide eyes. “Was it Mojo-?"

“That was the first thing through my mind until I looked outside of the tent and saw the drag trails in the sand. ‘Star had hauled himself down the beach and I found him sitting in the ocean up to his waist. That salt water must have stung like blazes, but he was soaking his wounds and splashing handfuls over the gouge in his shoulder. I worried about the sand but when I went over to help damned if I couldn't see the flesh mending together right before my eyes. He was healing, Terry. All the strength went out of me and I just fell down in the water right next to him and started laughing, and crying, and just about everything else. It took him almost two weeks to get full use of his arm and leg back, and we stayed there until he was ready to go back to fighting. He was a lot more careful after that, I can tell you.”

“So, t’you that beach was a potential grave site and suicide spot,” Therese mused. “Now I understand why ye were against the idea going there so much.”

“Yes! Thank you, Terry-”

“But Shatterstar dinnae understand, Ric. He associates tha’ place as a positive experience. A place where ye bonded and solidified yuir relationship.”

Rictor didn’t say anything and began to fiddle with the label of his beer bottle before she pulled it away to get his full attention. “Ye need t’talk to him ‘bout Manzanillo. He takes everything ye say personal and thinks he did something wrong.”

“Look, I know. I just ... I don’t know where to even start.”

Theresa looked at him seriously. “Have ye said it to him since he came back?”

“Huh?”

“Have you told him ye loved him?”

“Aw, he knows that I-“

“Ye need to tell him, Ric,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Yuir not teenagers anymore and all this dancin’ around’s no good for either of ye. You both need t’have a good long talk.”

Rictor regarded her solemnly for a moment and then nodded and rose, kissing her on the top of the head as he went by. When he went to the living room he only saw Jamie still sitting in his chair looking dejected for some strange reason, then again it was pretty much his natural look. “Where’d everybody go?”

“The ladies are all upstairs trying on their skimpiest outfits and complaining about winter weight. Guido and Longshot went out on a beer run. Pip is checking the office for any loose ends that might need to be cleared up, which is really your job-“

Rictor ignored the jab. “Where’s ‘Star?”

“I guess he went upstairs to pack. Is everything all right between you two?”

It was funny how often Madrox and the others asked him or ‘Star that question. Perhaps because the two of them were really the only established couple in the eclectic bunch and the partnership was dysfunctional even by mutant standards. Everyone wanted to put in their two cents worth and try to help. The Hispanic couldn’t really get mad at the well-meaning meddling. Maybe if they’d had this kind of support in Mexico things probably wouldn’t have self-destructed the way they had; putting him and ‘Star at odds –and at one point enemies- for the next three years.

When he went upstairs, he half-expected to find Monet modeling different bikinis in front of Shatterstar who would be too polite (and too damned curious) to stop acting as her critic. Ric found him in their bedroom instead, lying on their bed looking like he was asleep. “Not like you to take a nap, Gav. You okay?”

“Just resting before the transport,” he muttered, eyes still closed. His mutant power of teleportation taxed his system even if he acted otherwise. It didn’t seem to matter if he was ‘porting across the street or to the other side of the world, or the amount of people and cargo he shuttled, it all amounted to the same: He couldn’t do it again for at least four hours without risking bodily injury or death. If that wasn’t an indication of how badly using the ability drained him, Rictor didn’t know what was.

“Where did everybody settle on going?”

“France,” came the terse answer. Fifteen years of slavery on Mojoworld had made ‘Star a master of being passive-aggressive and monosyllabic responses were one of his clear defences. Ric identified it as the warning it was and didn't ask any more stupid questions. Instead, he went to the bed and reached under it to haul out one of the storage bags that held his summer gear of baggy shorts and ratty T-shirts. “Y’know, I’ve been rethinking the whole thing. That beach in Manzanillo you like so much-“

“But you do not.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, Gav. I just don’t have the same memories of the place that you seem to.”

‘Star raised himself up on one elbow and finally looked at him. “I covet the place because it is where we connected for the first time.”

“Dude, in case you don’t remember, we ‘connected’ _plenty_ of times before that-“

“We connected here,” he punched his chest for emphasis. “I was not a teleporter then, but I still felt it in my uemeur, my soul. We resonated, Julio. For the first time since we met, I felt empowered by your strength and character. By your love. It was a time and place of rebirth for me.”

“’Rebirth’,” Rictor echoed in a strengthless, stunned voice. He had dug a grave in the sand barely twenty feet from where Shatterstar had been wheezing breath after agonized breath. He had mentally pictured the act of burying his beloved friend and making some sort of marker. He had composed a rough goodbye note on his cell phone for when it would be found- eventually. He had figured out that by sticking his fingers in his ears, he could focus his seismic powers through his auditory canals as an effective way to instantly reduce his brains to a pink slurry. “A place of rebirth. _No me chingues_ ,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his head in his hands. “Talk about irony ...”

“Julio?” ‘Star was beside him, staring at him in that baffled Irish Setter way that usually cracked the Hispanic up. Instead, it just made him feel worse. “Something is wrong and I don’t understand. Please tell me.”

Rictor raised his head and gently cupped the other man’s jaw. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“But I haven’t said it lately, have I?” When ‘Star started to speak, the Mexican cut in with, “It’s a rhetorical question. I already know the answer.” He kissed ‘Star, opening his mouth wide and receiving that eager, answering heat in return. Their tongues quested wetly before he pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “I love you, Gaveedra.”

‘Star looked startled by the abrupt shift in conversation, but he was smiling in relief. “I love you, too, Julio.”

“We’re going to go to that beach in Manzanillo.”

“But you-“

“We’re going there because I have something to show you, and something I have to say, and I need to be there to do it.”

There was that hard resolve in his partner’s voice that ‘Star chose not to challenge. He nodded. “The others will be upset by the change in venue. Guido, in particular, will be disappointed not to see the bare breasts of Saint-Tropez.”

Rictor snorted. “Do you honestly think the minute we appear on a crowded beach with him in tow that all the women won’t cover up and run? I like the guy, but he’s scary-looking as fuck. Down in Manzanillo we can play your favorite reality show.”

‘Star looked at him doubtfully. “... America’s Next Top Model?”

“Yeah, that- _What?_ Since when have you started watching that garbage?”

“Longshot got me interested in it.”

Ric rolled his eyes. “Figures. I was talking about Survivor. Guys versus Girls.”

“There are only three women.”

“We’re gay. We’re supposed to be on their side. It’s in the rulebook. Jamie can knock out a dupe to even up the total on his side.”

“He’ll cheat.”

“Ah, no doubt. Won’t matter. It’s all in fun and X-Factor hasn’t had that in awhile.” Rictor was rifling through his summer clothes and came up with something. “Catch!”

‘Star caught the tiny bundle of fabric and stretched it out. It was the red swimming thong he had worn in Los Corchos. “You kept this?”

Rictor had a dreamy half-smile on his face. “I don’t have a lot of things from those days but _that_ one I held on to.”

“Curious. I only wore it once and yet it looks suspiciously ... abused,” ‘Star said with a frown as he inspected it. Rictor cleared his throat and his grin broadened into a slightly guilty one. It was an expression the alien immediately recognized. _“Julio!”_

“Don’t look skeeved. I washed it.”

“Several hundred times by the looks of the thing,” ‘Star muttered, holding it between his thumb and first finger as if it were diseased. “I will not wear this. You will buy me another before we leave.”

 _“What?!_ Dude, in case you haven’t looked out of the window, we’re on the cusp of a freaking blizzard!”

“That means that shops will close early. You had best make haste,” ‘Star said, lifting his head in that slightly imperious way he got when he secretly knew he had the upper hand in something and intended to stubbornly stick to his guns. “We will also need foodstuffs and camping gear.”

Grumbling, Rictor pulled on an extra sweater and glowered at him. “Are you at least coming?”

‘Star reclaimed his spot on the bed, folding his arms contentedly behind his head. “I need to rest before the transport.”

“ _Eres un pendejo,”_ Ric growled, walking towards the door. “Just so you know, I’m gonna buy the smallest, tightest swimsuit I can find.”

“That’s fine. I know you won’t be letting me wear it for very long,” ‘Star retorted and chuckled when the Hispanic, blushing, stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

 _It is in moments like these that relationships are grand,_ Shatterstar reflected and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

  
End.

 


End file.
